


i put a spell on you

by JustHereForTheFanfic



Series: Collins!Reader [2]
Category: Dark Shadows (2012)
Genre: F/F, Halloween, Possessive Behavior, Time Travel, Witchcraft, any excuse to appreciate the spooky season, collins!reader, it's got a good helping of angst and a pinch of stupidity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustHereForTheFanfic/pseuds/JustHereForTheFanfic
Summary: There was a sudden scraping sound against the wall, and you turned to see the broom slide and hit the shelf. Knocking one potion off the shelf."Y/N." There was a warning to her voice, and panic that sent your heart pounding. You glanced up at Angie. A purple mist rose from the broken glass, swirling around you so that the last thing you saw was your wife lunging for your arm. And then you were engulfed.The smoke dissipated a few seconds later and you found yourself standing in a field.You turned around full circle; you were standing in a field. Anxiously you walked around and finally you stopped. Panic rising. You stopped to stand where your bedroom would’ve been. Should be. From that place you could see Collinsport. Panic rose, you felt nauseous. Because there sat Collinsport, smoke from chimneys and log cabins and boats that looked like they were from textbooks, and it looked how Barnabas had always described Collinsport centuries ago.ORSeveral years after 'the name of the game' you're enjoying domestic bliss with your wife, when an accident throws you back to eighteenth-century Collinsport. Now you're faced with the problem of getting back to the present without screwing up the timeline.
Relationships: Angelique Bouchard Collins/Reader
Series: Collins!Reader [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965751
Comments: 27
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place several years after 'name of the game' and by now Reader and Angie have their own Addams Family vibe going. Also happy soon to be Halloween! Since Halloween in 2020 is but a pipe dream at this point, this is just something to keep the spirits high I guess.

You woke Angie with a kiss on the cheek, still she didn’t move. And you suspected that she was purposely being aloof, she knew you had planned this Sunday to be your spring cleaning—well technically fall cleaning. But you still held steadfast that the house could be cleaned.

“Angie.”

“Hmmm?” She didn’t move still, just hummed.

“Breakfast is ready.”

She turned her head and put the pillow over her head, and if that’s how she wanted to go about it. You weren’t above playing dirty. 

The twins were already awake, both sitting at the kitchen counter. Eating the pumpkin pancakes you made so you could truly get into the fall mood. “I think your mom could use a good wake up call.”

The pair glanced at each other, before taking off down the hall and into your bedroom. You followed along, pausing in the doorway to watch you children as they poked your wife in the side.

“Mom, pancakes are ready.” Your son singsonged, climbing onto the bed.

“Don't you want to eat breakfast with us?" You daughter asked pleadingly, knowing the guilt trip would work. She shot you a mischievous grin when Angie stirred. You shook your head smiling, sometimes she was too much like Angie.

Both crawled under the sheets, so that Angie was trapped between two very excited and determined seven-year olds. You had promised that they’d be able to start decorating for Halloween today provided everything was clean.

Finally, Angie sat up, sighed. “You’re all evil.” But she was awake, which was more progress than you had made.

“But you’re finally awake,” you said, smiling. Angie rolled her eyes and pulled the kids closer to her.

You wanted a picture of the moment, your wife and kids all in pajamas, in various states of wakefulness, and with varying degrees of bedhead. “How about we have breakfast in bed?” You offered.

“Sounds wonderful.” Angie answered. You walked back, made Angie her plate and added an extra pancake onto it that you’d definitely steal later. Then grabbed the kid’s plates, thankfully neither had drowned their pancakes in syrup yet. So, you brought their plates to the bedroom.

You handed out the plates, sitting cross legged across from your wife. “I promised the kids that after we clean, they can start decorating for Halloween.”

She looked between the two, “Have you two decided what you want to be?”

"A witch." Your daughter answered calmly.

"A werewolf!" You son grinned.

Angie and you shared a look of mild concern but smiled encouragingly towards them. You said, "A werewolf and a witch."

They both nodded proudly, "Uncle Barnabas told us stories about them."

_That explained it._

Your daughter then leaned into Angie's side. "Do you think I'll be a convincing witch?"

Angie's expression melted, "Oh sweetheart, you'll be the best there is."

Your daughter broke into a smile, "Can I use the old broom for my costume?"

"Of course."

Your son spoke up, entirely serious, "Can I glue hair to my face?"

You grinned, "We can get you a costume, but you're not allowed to glue hair to your face."

The twins left soon after they finished breakfast to go clean their rooms, leaving you and Angie to sit in bed.

“I take it, it was your idea for the ambush?” She hummed.

You leaned forward and stole a pancake off her plate, “It worked didn’t it?”  
  


She glared at you for stealing off her plate, but sighed, “Unfortunately yes.”

“Well I need you to help clean things out.”

“Things are perfectly clean.”

“Your potions room?”

She tilted her head, sighed. “Except that.” Angie set her plate on the nightstand and watched you. “The children get to decorate for Halloween, but what do I get?”

“Your wife’s respect and admiration?”

She crossed her arms, considered it for a moment. “I already have that.”

You scoffed, “What do you want?”

She smirked, “I want to choose your costume.”

“It needs to be something that I can take the children trick or treating in.” Knowing Angie, she probably had something in mind that was anything but family friendly.

She waved it off, “Then I get to choose two costumes, one you can wear for trick or treating,” she smirked, “and one you’ll wear for me.”

Some alarm went off in your head that she already had the costumes in mind, and that she had set this plan into motion when you mentioned fall cleaning a few days ago. “I’m assuming you already bought the costumes?”

She smiled, “No, not yet, but I’ve already put them on hold, I just need to hear you say yes.”

Slowly you stood from the bed, “Fine,” she took your arms and gently pulled you towards her, you followed and pouted when she smiled.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart.” She murmured, pulled you into a kiss, when she tried to deepen it, you moved away. She frowned at the loss of contact, but you smiled.

Finally, you walked away from the bed leaving her to get up and get ready. There was an audible huff and you stopped in the doorway, turning back to grin, “If you’re good I’ll give you a treat.”

Equal parts pride and intrigue passed across her expression, but you left before you could see which one won out.

\-------------------

You went to check in on your children, your daughter was double checking her room when you walked by. “It looks fantastic.” She beamed under the praise. 

“I was thinking…” She tapped her chin, “What if I got Halloween decorations for my room?”

“What do you have in mind?” 

“A skeleton!” She answered too quickly to have been a spur of the moment thing.

“Do you have a name picked out yet?” 

She paused for a moment, eyes narrowed in concentration, before finally meeting your gaze again. “Gretchen The Destroyer.” She announced. “She’ll need to be life size.”

You nodded, “We’ll have to see if they’re selling any skeletons at the store.” 

She grinned, “I’m gonna go tell mom.” Hugged you tight, before running towards the opposite side of the house to tell Angie the good news.

Then you walked by your son’s room, he was meticulously organizing his stuffed animals and explaining to them that there would be Halloween decorations up soon.

He caught movement in the doorway and glanced up to see you. He stood up, “Oh! I found something.” He grabbed something off his dresser and bounded up to you, gently dropping a chapstick in your palm.

The root beer chapstick that your children had suddenly decided that you needed on one uneventful trip to the grocery store, Angie had bought it without question. Since getting it, it continued to ‘mysteriously disappear,’ and by that you knew your kids would ask to use some and then forget where they put it. 

You smiled, “Thank you.”

He nodded then turned back to his stuffed animals, then glanced at you, and in what was an exact mimic of Angie said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with my associates.” 

You pretended to take notice of the stuffed animals only then, you leaned down to nod at him, “It looks like it’s very important, best not to keep them waiting.”

He nodded then turned to presumably resume his meeting with his...associates.

\-------------

Inevitably Angie met you in front of her potions room, you insisted on calling it her lair, simply because it annoyed her to no end. She sighed as she opened the door, you followed behind armed with a broom, duster, and multi-surface cleaner for good measure. 

After assessing the room, you decided that it really only needed a good dusting to get rid of the spiderwebs, and to sweep around the cauldron and table. “When was the last time you dusted up there?” You pointed to the shelf of various liquids that were most likely potions and poisons. 

“At least a century.” She guessed.

“I’ll start there.” You said, moving each of the bottles carefully off the shelf. “We could get you an actual light in here. Unless it messes up your aesthetic.” You teased.

“The children will need an actual light when I start teaching them, so they don’t strain their eyes,” she nodded, “I’m sure we can find one that keeps with the aesthetic.”

You smiled. Continuing to dust, then you set the potions back the way you found them. Then you swept, and once you were satisfied you leaned the broom against the wall. you turned to glance around the room, it was now cleaner, less cobwebs. "What do you think of adding a lamp there?" You gestured near the table. 

Angie tilted her head, "Would you prefer a lamp or a light fixture?"

There was a sudden scraping sound against the wall, and you turned to see the broom slide and hit the shelf. Knocking one potion off the shelf.

You tried to catch it, but it slipped through your fingers, you watched in almost slow motion as the purple shimmering liquid fell to the floor. Glass breaking. You sighed, “Well shit.”

"Y/N." There was a warning to her voice, and panic that sent your heart pounding. You glanced up at Angie. A purple mist rose from the broken glass, swirling around you so that the last thing you saw was your wife lunging for your arm. And then you were engulfed.

The smoke dissipated a few seconds later and you found yourself standing in a field. 

You turned around full circle; you were standing in a field. Anxiously you walked around and finally you stopped. Panic rising. You stopped to stand where your bedroom would’ve been. _Should be._ From that place you could see Collinsport. Panic rose, you felt nauseous. Because there sat Collinsport, smoke from chimneys and log cabins and boats that looked like they were from textbooks, and it looked how Barnabas had always described Collinsport centuries ago.

Nausea hit you full force and you were going to be fine, fine, _fucking fine._ You glanced around and your gaze landed on a cottage, a little way down the hill. Smoke coming out of the chimney, but you didn’t see anyone outside. 

The trees blocked their view of you mostly, but still you crouched behind a tree. Already your mind was running a mile a minute, if this was the eighteenth-century, which you were almost certain it was. You needed clothes. 

Angie was probably around the settlement, most likely at Collinswood. Which meant you needed to slip in there, convince her. This could work. You spared one last glance at the field where your house should’ve been, and where your wife had just been.

Carefully and quietly you moved closer to the cottage, and god bless the clothesline with already drying clothes on it. Quickly you ran, pulled some off the line and just as quickly ran back into the woods starting in the direction of Collinswood.

Even if this was some odd hallucination on your part and you were tripping balls you trusted that Angie would take care of you. Or if this was real to some degree and you had accidentally been transported to an Amish community that had an eerie similarity with Collinswood worst case scenario you would compensate the people you had stolen clothes from.

But those were the best-case scenarios if you were completely honest.

After you were sure that no one was around, you changed into the clothes. It was a little harder to figure out how to put it on, and the dress was a little ill-fitting, but it would work for what you needed. Next came the problem with shoes, thankfully the dress was long enough that if you slouched the dress hid your shoes. So that would work for now.

Then there came a problem of what was left, Carolyn had given you a t-shirt for your birthday a KISS shirt with the band members ghostly white faces on it. Were you particularly fond of the band? No, but it was a ridiculously soft shirt, and you were fond of it because Carolyn had given it to you.

But you could get another one when you were back home, and able to recount this story over dinner. 

Your jeans were discarded, you could get more. And finally, the remaining things, your wedding ring which would draw too many questions because you weren’t going to tell Angie anything more than needed, that you pocketed. The chapstick your son had found earlier, you kept as well.

Then you picked up a discarded rock and started to dig into the ground, deep enough to put the shirt and jeans in and covered it back up. Dropped the rock and sighed relieved that you were at least this much closer to returning home.

However, you knew the hardest part was yet to come, you still had to convince Angie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hope is to have this finished by Halloween but my classes have other ideas smh

The walk was longer than expected, an hour and a half later you could make out Collinswood in the distance. Which is when you realized that you truly didn’t have a plan other than convince Angie. 

There would undoubtedly be questions, you could brush it off as you were helping your friend clean her potions room, then shit happened. Now you were here. Simple enough. If she asked how you two met, you could claim work. 

In theory this would all work, and hopefully you could make it back in time for dinner tonight. As you neared Collinswood a sinking feeling started to build. Fog rolled through the lawn, the mansion towered above, new and intimidating. You gave a small bittersweet smile, _home sweet home._

You barely made it to the first step of the front door when it opened. A man stood there, “May I help you madam?”

For all your theories and strategies, you hadn’t prepared to deal with getting to Angie. Or thought of how to speak antiquated. In your best impression of Barnabas, you spoke, “Forgive me, I came to speak with a few of the maids for-”

Instantly his expression turned haughty, you guessed because he suddenly deemed you unimportant. He waved you off, “You’ll find them eventually.” Then stepped out the door and walked off.

_Well fuck you too sir._ Regardless you stepped inside, eyes widening at the sheer wealth that radiated from this place. Floors so clean you could eat off, everything perfectly dusted, not a thing out of place. Quickly you closed your mouth, reminded yourself why you were here, and set off in the direction of the old wing—new wing, you corrected.

Most didn’t pay you any mind, and you weren’t entirely sure what you were searching for. Besides your wife.

As you passed down the hall there were pinpricks at your neck, a sixth sense telling you to look. You glanced down the intersection of the hall. Two women were scrubbing the floor determinedly, you paused glancing at one. Finally, she glanced up to meet your gaze. 

Your wife stared back at you confused, “May I help you?” Her accent was thicker, catching on the word _you_. In present times it rarely came out unless she was tired or angry. She looked a few years younger than when you first met her, but you still felt calm simply being near her. 

You tried to find the right words, taking care to talk like Barnabas would. “I beg your pardon ma’am, but I need to talk with you in private.”

The other maid glanced up questioningly, Angie sent her a confused glance but nodded. Angie’s focus turned back to you, “Very well.”

As soon as you two were alone you began to speak, giving up the pretense of talking antiquated, or faking an accent. “I’m sorry for how this is all going to sound, but I need your help. I’m from the future.”

Her expression turned pensive, she took you in ill-fitting clothes and whatever else that might’ve stood out to her. She stepped closer, “And why do you expect I know what to do?”

“Because I was with you when this happened.”

“I’m not to blame for your problems.”

You set your jaw, whispered only low enough for her to hear, “No, it was just your potion that sent me here.”

She glared at you suddenly, so much for convincing her. She took your wrist and pulled you back to the other maid. Her expression cleared only long enough for her to tell the other girl that she needed to assist you for a bit but would return. The other girl nodded.

Angie pulled you along through hallways and rooms quickly, not bothering to talk to you, simply glaring as she walked. Finally, you realized where she was taking you as she led you to a bare stone wall. Her grip tightened before pulling you both through it.

The room like its aged counterpart was stone, there was a cauldron in the middle and a table pushed against the wall with multiple large books. A cot sat in the corner unassuming, a chair near the table and another near the wall. 

She released your arm but flicked her wrist and you found yourself pushed into a chair that was against the wall, restrained by invisible bonds. You weren’t startled by it, she had done it before to you countless times, though with other intentions in mind. But you found you weren’t worried in the least, except for the thought of her not believing you.

She sat at the chair near the table and stared at you, you felt the need to make the distinction if to no one at least yourself. There was an obvious difference even if both looked the same. This was _Angelique,_ town witch and woman who had cursed your entire bloodline. Not Angie, not your wife.

And yet when she stared at you with such curiosity, you still felt yourself smile under her gaze. 

“You can only speak the truth,” she said, and you found that your jaw clenched when you tried to argue, “understood?”

Slowly with dawning terror you realized she had placed a truth spell on you, you tried to argue again, but still to no avail. Finally, you gave in realizing you would have to be honest, and then your jaw relaxed. “Perfectly.” You breathed.

“Excellent.” She smiled and it was one of her crueler smirks that hadn’t been directed at you in a while. “Now to start off what is your name?”

“Y/N.”

“How did you get here?”

“We were cleaning out some of your potions and one of them fell. I don’t remember much except that it clouded around me and next thing I knew I was standing near some cottage.” She stayed silent and you continued. “I surmised after seeing a few of the people that my clothes would make me stand out too much and so I stole some off their clothesline. I came to ask for your help so I can return back to my time.”

“When are you from?”

Assuming this was around 1770, you guessed. “A little more than two centuries from now.”

Her expression betrayed some surprise, before it was gone. She moved to stand closer, “What is your relation to me?”

You sighed, looking up at the rafters as you let your head fall back and thud against the stone wall of the room. Your jaw clenched when you tried to say she was your best friend. Every movie involving time travel reminded you of the dangers of saying too much and messing up the timeline. But even worse was her deciding not to help you back at all. 

Still you held your tongue, not wanting to say any more than you already had. Which was way too fucking much, in your opinion.

She moved closer inspecting your outfit questioningly, you weren’t sure what she was looking for until her hand brushed against your pocket. Expression giving away to suspicion until she dug the ring out of your pocket. She let out a breath looking at the ring, it sparkled in the light. You tried to move against the invisible bounds, still they didn’t budge. She spoke, “Did I give this to you?”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, instead you simply stared at her.

“It’s my own magic.” She said impatiently waiting for an answer. When she had given the ring to you, she had enchanted it to keep you safe, much like the necklace she had given you ages ago. The ring however was practically a direct connection to Angie herself.

Defeated, your gaze dropped to the floor, “We’re married.”

Your focus remained on the floor, painfully aware of how fast things had gone to shit. The ring was beautiful and expensive, and she had been so proud anytime someone complimented it. Always pulling you tightly against her and grinning proudly, that ‘her wife only deserved the best.’ You were proud anytime she referred to you as ‘my wife,’ something you both had in common.

She startled you when she gripped your chin, turning your face left and right, and then again, inspecting you closely. Finally, she smirked, eyes dropping to your mouth, “I’ve done well for myself then.”

Of course, even now, centuries apart she would flirt with you.

She dropped your chin moving back a few steps to inspect the ring again. After a quiet moment she glanced back at you smirking. “Do I own one like this as well?”

You nodded slowly. 

She watched you, you stared back, and you could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Are you a duchess or some type of nobility?”

You chuckled, “No, we’ve simply done well for ourselves.”

“Do you love me?”

“With all my heart.” You answered easily.

She wore a calculating smirk but having known her for years you could tell she was more pleased than anything. “Would you betray me if given the chance?”

“I’d sooner die.” 

And that earned a pleased hum, her expression softened, and she didn’t bother to hide the smile, you knew it was an ego boost for her. She moved towards the table of herbs. “This could buy at least two ships if not more.” She gestured to the ring.

“I’ll let you have it in exchange for you helping me return to my time.” Angie had given it to you, made it so that your will was imposed on it and that no one would truly be able to take it from you. Even if you focused hard enough on it now the ring would be back in your hand in less than a second.

Angelique knew that because she seemed to consider the offer, she set the ring carefully on the table. 

“Do you know how much power this ring holds?” She murmured, idly spinning it against the table.

“I do.” You answered softly. “You wanted something that put your mind at ease when I wasn’t near you.”

She hummed, focus landing on you, “I gave you this so willingly?” But you knew the real question behind it, _I love you this much?_

You smiled almost sadly, recalling the proposal. The shakiness to Angie’s hands, the way she had started to ramble, your stunned silence and the way that she had cut herself off, before you stuttered out a yes. Your heart clenched at the memory of her expression, that joy and almost nervous surprise. Finally, you met Angelique’s gaze, and she caught the flicker of emotion in your eyes. 

Quickly she focused back on the ring, changing the subject with the speed of someone who got an answer they didn’t know how to respond to. “Does this bother you at all?”

Your gaze remained on Angelique delighted with the knowledge that it bothered her. While you loved your wife, being strapped to a chair while interrogated was starting to wear on your nerves and you would at least annoy her. “This being?”

She gestured around the room, “Witchcraft.”

You shook your head, “I knew what I was getting into when I married you.”

Again, you saw the concentration, as she tried to put the puzzle pieces together. Her jaw set, and you knew she had resolved whatever she was weighing in her mind. “I promise to return you to your time, in exchange for the ring. Do we have a deal?”

The deal turned over in your mind, you couldn’t fully trust this Angelique, all cruel smirks, and curses. But she was also your only way home, “It has to be sealed with a kiss.”

She smirked, “You don’t trust my word?”

“When I’m still being held hostage? No.”

She sighed, walked towards you, finally leaned down to eye level with you. You spoke, repeating what Angie had told you months ago when explaining some arcane facts about witchcraft. “A witch’s kiss binds the deal more than words ever could.”

She smirked, “You don’t have to school me on my own magic.”

“It’s the only way I’ll accept the deal.”

She seemed to consider it a moment before propping her hands on your thighs and leaning barely an inch from your mouth. 

She leaned in and you tried to meet her halfway, but she pulled away just barely out of reach and you couldn’t move to her. She smirked, “Someone’s eager.”

You glared at her, which only widened her smirk, she lifted your chin with a teasing finger, “With this kiss I promise to return you to your time, in exchange for the ring.” Closed the distance between you two and kissed you. Perfunctory for a moment before her hand started to slide up your thigh.

You frowned against her lips; her hand stopped its trail. This kiss wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a simple closure of the deal, but still she lingered against your lips a moment longer. 

She pulled away, smirking at your frown, “Is there a problem, chérie?”

_Chérie,_ how fitting. In your time it was sweetheart, it had been used mockingly at first but became an endearment. Now it was chérie meant as a jab, and it only made you miss her more. “I forgot how much of an asshole you were.”

She chuckled unbothered, “It seems that you love me regardless.”

“Unfortunately, I always will.” You muttered, more to yourself, but still she heard.

Her expression caught at the words, the teasing smirk dropped, and she watched you for a second. Calculating, but not cold, almost achingly curious. It lasted a second before she nodded, “I’ll be back for you in the evening.” And then walked back out of the disguised door. Leaving you to sit and wait, and hope that whatever time it was, it was somewhere closer to the evening.

\------------------------

She returned several hours later, thankfully with food and some other clothes. “Here, chérie.” Your arms were finally released by whatever invisible restraints they had previously been held by, and though your arms were asleep you held onto the plate painfully hard. She passed you a plate of bread and cheese and what you suspected was fish, but you were too hungry to inspect closer.

“Thank you.”

She moved another chair so that she was sitting in front of you, her knees occasionally brushing yours. “Do we call each other names?”

You swallowed a bite, “Sometimes.” She didn’t have a plate, “Do you want some?”

She smiled and shook her head. “I’ve already eaten.”

You nodded absentmindedly figuring that she most likely ate then managed to sneak some food to you. “Do you mind letting me up?”

She flicked her hand in your general direction and your legs were no longer tied to the chair legs. Slowly you stretched and then and when you were sure that you wouldn’t fall on your face should you get up, you slowly stood up.

You paced around the room, eating and walking. You didn’t mind her watching you, as long as you were able to move you would be fine.

Once you were finished eating, she asked you to sit down, confused you obeyed.

She gestured again and the bonds returned. “Goodnight.” And then she left.

You chuckled, because of all the places to find yourself of course it was going to be with Angelique when she definitely didn’t trust you. Much less like you if the isolation was anything to go by.

Thankfully, the day had been taxing enough that you fell asleep relatively fast. Unfortunately, when you woke up the next morning there was a painful knot in your neck and your arms and legs were asleep again. And technically you weren’t sure if it was morning. The one window still showed it was dark out. And thanks to the fact that the lightbulb hadn’t been invented yet. It was pitch black.

There was the squeak and scrabbling the sound of rats or mice? Either way it was unnerving. After that you were pretty certain that you drifted in and out of sleep, but it was impossible to be sure.

Approaching footsteps brought you back into focus, then Angelique appeared, holding a candle. “You’re awake.” She smiled, snapping her finger and the candles in the room lit up. “Sleep well?”

“About as well as one expects in these circumstances.” You replied. “Do you trust me enough to let me up again?”

She didn’t answer but your limbs were suddenly released. It took a few moments of slowly moving on pins and needles before you stood up. “I brought you clothes.” They were similar to Angelique’s. “Until I know what to do with you, you’ll pose as a maid.”

“Thank you.” You reached for the clothes and she pulled them just out of reach.

“I’m trusting you to not make a mistake, if you do, I will leave you to fend for yourself. Understood?”

“Perfectly.”

Then she handed you the clothes and you turned to change, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “Angelique, I know you’re looking.”

“And what’s wrong with that? Am I not allowed to appreciate my beautiful wife?” And you knew she meant it as a jab.

You looked over your shoulder to shoot her a glare. And she drifted her eyes up to yours, smirking. Before turning to the table to not look directly at you, though to keep you in her peripheral vision.

Still while you took the time to change you moved towards the cot, the chapstick was in the pocket of the stolen dress and as stealthy as you could manage, you slipped the chapstick between the cot mattress and frame, hoping to not have a repeat of the ring incident. 

Though the ring brought certain connotations that the chapstick didn’t hold, you still wanted it safely hidden because now it was the only proof you had that your kids still existed. Did the timeline work like that?

“Not that I don’t appreciate the view, but we do have other responsibilities to tend to.” Angelique murmured from her place near the table. You glanced up before forcing yourself to relax.

She neared you and gave a once over the outfit, "We're going to speak with Hugh, once he approves, then I will show you around the manor. Stay close to me and if anyone asks, you don't speak English."

"What do I speak then?" You asked, watching her adjust your outfit. "French?"

"Do you know any French?"

You tilted your head slightly, "You've taught me some words."

Her expression turned again to that achingly curiousness, but she turned away before you could place a name to it. "Should everything go smoothly, I'll begin searching for a way to return you to your time."

And then you were off.

You followed behind her, while she led you to a room you didn’t recognize, you guessed it had probably fallen to disrepair and ended up closed off by Liz. A man in a suit stood patiently waiting, he wasn’t Joshua or anyone you had recognized from the family tree.

You surmised he was important enough to warrant authority, but not important enough that he was able to get out of doing his job. “This is the new maid?” He asked.

Angelique nodded.

“She’s aware of what this job will entail?”

“I’ve discussed it with her at length.” Angelique answered easily.

He nodded, “She will be paid monthly for her services, payment should amount to around two shillings and sixpence.”

You had no idea what that was in dollars, then vaguely realized that US currency hadn’t been invented yet and swallowed.

Angelique turned to you, began to repeat it in French and you nodded along. When she finished, she looked at you expectantly, you realized then suddenly that both of their gazes were on you. The first thing that popped into your mind was blessedly French, but as you spoke you realized what the words were. It was a phrase Angie had taught you in the bedroom, and it was not appropriate amongst any company. Unless it was to beg for said company to fuck you senseless.

Your face flushed, but you stared Angelique down, refusing to laugh or show the slightest embarrassment.

Angelique opened her mouth just a moment, closed it just as quickly. An aggressive blush colored her face. Finally, she turned to Hugh, lied and said. "She says the payment is more than sufficient."

He nodded and dismissed the two of you. Angelique waited until you were out of the room and alone before she whispered. "When you mentioned you knew a few words in French I assumed you meant basic ones."

You winced, "I panicked, I wasn't prepared to be put on the spot." You crossed your arms, "Besides, those were some of the first words you taught me to say."

She shook her head, a smirk gracing her features, "At least your pronunciation is good. Your manners could use some work."

You rolled your eyes and followed Angelique. She led you throughout the house, showing you which wing was where, and which rooms were occupied. “It’s understandable if you get lost the first few times.” She said.

You knew exactly where you were going, not that you wanted to tell Angelique that, because that’d only raise more questions. Instead you nodded.

It very much felt like your first day of school. As Angelique pointed towards this room and that, explaining what each room was. Everything seemed rather straightforward considering you really only needed to interact with Angelique should everything go to plan. But still she would list off other people’s names and you committed them to memory as best as you could

Then you made some beds, you mopped the floor and scrubbed the stairs. Each movement felt painful, having slept strapped to a chair hadn’t exactly given your body a relaxing night. Still you were determined to keep up with Angelique.

Finally, after three hours of chores she spoke, “You’re competent.”

“Well you didn’t marry me just for my good looks.” You smiled and then quickly regretted it. Slowly during the day, she had become less cold to you and you suspected she had mostly forgotten why you were here and the last thing you wanted to do was make her distrust you. But when you cast a furtive glance at her she had the barest hint of a smile, had you not known her for years and been able to read her like a book, you would have missed.

By that evening when the servants' dinner was served, you both grabbed your plates and then snuck off to the attic room and she ate while looking through one book. You sat there eating in silence, save for the turning of pages every so often.

You broached a subject that you had been considering since having mopped the floors. “Will I sleep strapped to the chair again?”

She looked up, “No, you’ll sleep in the maid's quarters.”

When she made it halfway through that book with nothing, you both turned in for the night. With her guiding you down to the room full of cots. There were two empty ones next to each other and she slid into one and you slid into the other.

You fell asleep quickly again.

———————

The next few days continued like that. Angelique treated you with reluctance, it wasn’t outright hostile, but she treated you as if this entire situation was your fault. However, for the most part she simply ignored you, occasionally she would ask you about the future and you couldn’t respond without giving her too much information. When you didn’t answer her questions, she’d resume her passive aggressive silent treatment.

Despite her silent treatment you managed to get a few answers, for instance Barnabas wasn’t in Collinsport. He was finishing some college degree in England and would return in six months, you suspected that was when the affair would begin between them.

The knowledge made you sick to your stomach because your mind jumped to their affair and you rather not picture your wife with your distant relative. Followed by the equally as stress-inducing information that she needed to fall in love with Barnabas enough to curse him and your entire family to ensure you would eventually be born.

Thankfully Angelique seemed to hate you currently, so provided the two of you remained platonic she would end up falling for Barnabas. Everything would hopefully go to plan. 

Of course, just as soon as you formed a plan Sunday rolled around and crushed any hope that things would be easy.

Sunday when most of the mansion was quiet, the Collins family had gone to church and the servants were allowed to do as they pleased. Most went to church as well, some staying behind to tidy the mansion. You and Angelique were holed up in the attic.

With the knowledge that Barnabas had yet to scorn Angelique that meant your future rested on remaining as passive, and quiet as possible. While Angelique sat at the table looking through one of the large tomes, you sat in the chair near the cauldron with scrap parchment and a quill.

When faced with any problem your solution was to lay out the facts, which meant scrawling out; _time travel rules,_ above the paper. Drawing a small diagram of how you suspected time travel worked. That was assuming that this time affected things in the future, which meant paradoxes would be created if you did anything stupid.

Would that mean Angelique would remember you when she first saw you? Would that affect your relationship with her?

Rules had to be set to ensure you weren’t suddenly obliterated by time itself. First and foremost, you would do nothing that would jeopardize you or Angelique’s life. Secondly, you would remain passive and completely platonic with Angelique. If she came to realize your ancestry and relations to the Collins name you would most likely cease to exist. You were on your third rule and attempting to find one when Angelique turned to glance at you. “What are you writing?”

You crumpled the paper, “Nothing.”

She watched unconvinced, which made you stand. You walked over to one of the candles and held the crumpled paper to the flame, quickly it caught, and you dropped the paper to the ground. Watching as it turned to ashes, you crushed it under foot for good measure, before turning your focus back to Angelique. Who watched you with interest, her mouth quirking upwards. “That appeared to be the complete opposite of nothing.”

You ignored the comment and moved away from the pile of ashes, coming to stand behind Angelique. Her focus had already returned to the book, you glanced over her shoulder at the book. It was written in a language you weren’t entirely sure what it was. Maybe a combination of a few? “Can I help you?” She asked and turned to look at you.

Hesitantly you took a step back, “I was hoping I could help you look through the books, you know, speed up the process. But I’ve got no idea what language that is.” 

She smiled smugly, “It’s Archaic Latin.”

“Yeah, I’m no help there.” You moved to rest against the table, “I just feel useless sitting here.”

“I’m sure you can find ways to make yourself useful.” She said, eyes flicking up to give you a teasing look, before returning disinterestedly to the tome. 

You ignored the remark in favor of asking, “Are you hungry?”

“I wouldn’t mind something to eat.” Despite her teasing before she answered honestly.

You nodded, passing by and squeezing her shoulder lightly. “Coming right up.” Her body stiffened barely, you pulled your hand away as if you had been burned, immediately regret seized you. Because this wasn't _your_ Angie. 

The trip to the kitchen was spent with you chastising yourself and considering that the best option would be to simply ignore the slip up and keep your distance from her. You couldn’t afford to make her uncomfortable, and while you needed her to fall in love with Barnabas, you also needed her to not hate you.

It was then as you pushed through the kitchen door and glanced around the kitchen that you were struck with homesickness, or heartache, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that the kitchen gave only the faintest resemblance to the kitchen you knew, and upstairs was a woman who could become your wife but currently despised you. You were at home, and yet two centuries away.

Halfway through your search with no luck, the sound of the main entrance doors being open and slammed shut startled you. As did the voices, you crept from the kitchen to listen to the men’s voices. 

You peered around the corner, catching sight of someone you hoped to never see again. Joshua, Barnabas’ father stood there, speaking to Hugh. “Notify the witch hunter, and priest, we have a demon among us.”

That didn’t quite turn your blood to ice as much as the clothes he held in his hands. Your clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a celebratory 'the Cheeto didn't get reelected' chapter for everyone!

The journey back to the attic blurred in your mind, so inconsequential when faced with the possibility of death. Your feet worked on muscle memory, and suddenly you were faced with the blank stone wall. Back to some semblance of safety, and back to Angelique.

As soon as you passed through the wall, she glanced at you, “Did you get lost?”

You absentmindedly sat down, vaguely realized you hadn’t grabbed the food, “They found my clothes, they’re notifying the witch hunter and the priest.”

She stood up abruptly, “Do they know it’s you?”

You shook your head, “No. No they don’t.”

Her gaze grew slightly less concerned, but still worried. She turned back to the table, though not focused on anything in particular. She remained silent for a few moments before she focused again on you, “I made a deal to protect you until I can send you back, and I plan to keep it.”

It eased some of the panic, but not nearly enough, you weren’t sure how witch hunters operated, or how this would affect your plans to get home. To be completely honest, you still weren’t sure how anything operated here, beyond scrubbing floors and washing clothes. 

She sighed, still managing to sense your anxiety and directed you towards the door, “Let’s join the others.”

By the end of the night the mansion was buzzing with the news, you could barely round the corner without hearing the excited whisper of: _I know! A witch hunter._

It was beyond you why everyone seemed excited by the thought, though you supposed it added something to talk about rather than normal small-town gossip. Angelique pretended to not notice the gossip, but you couldn’t muster the same unbothered expression. 

As afternoon turned to evening and evening to night, Angelique and you turned in without bothering to go to the attic. According to Angelique now was the worst time to raise any suspicion.

There were roughly fourteen other maids, and while you relaxed in bed the rest were enjoying their downtime, a few were braiding each other’s hair, a few simply cuddling, and some already asleep. It reminded you of a sleepover despite their discussions, “The clothes were found near the Crawley’s cottage,” Philippa said excitedly.

Another girl, you thought her name was Lydia, said, “Where did you hear of such a thing?”

Philippa hummed, “Gregory told me.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “And you believe everything that comes out of that fool’s mouth?”

You bit down a laugh, stretched out against the bed and listened as the discussions continued. Barely aware of someone’s presence near you until you felt your bed dip, your eyes shot open and you sat up. One of the maids sat next to you, she offered a hesitant smile, “I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to startle you. I’m Joan.” 

Slowly you nodded, opened your mouth to respond and-

“She doesn’t speak English.” Angelique said from her bed, pretending to be focused on her nails. Finally, she glanced up at the two of you, her gaze pointed.  
  


Joan’s hesitant smile dimmed, “Oh.” Her brow furrowed, “Could you translate for me?”

Angelique shrugged, “I suppose.”

Joan turned back to you, “What’s your name?”

Angelique spoke to you in French and though you weren’t fluent, you understood the sentence. _I don’t like the way she looks at you._

You never met Angelique’s gaze rather focused on Joan’s and you answered, “Y/N.” Trying to accent your voice so it wouldn’t raise suspicion. 

Joan smiled, “May I braid your hair, Y/N?”

This time your gaze drifted to Angelique, her eyes hard, but the rest of her expression carefully indifferent. _Say no, or I will._ She uttered.

Then you returned your focus to Joan. While you knew Angelique’s jealousy was nothing to trifle with, it had been a little more than a week since anything resembling physical affection had been given to you. You smiled at Joan and nodded.

She grinned back and moved to sit behind you, you relaxed into the touch, pretended not to hear Angelique’s soft huff. There was something calming about the gentle pull of hair as she braided, taking care not to pull so tightly. You halfheartedly listened to the discussions as your eyes slipped close and you focused on the rhythmic sensation. 

Joan finished then slid off your bed, offered you a smile, “It was a pleasure to meet you.” Then made her way towards her bed.

Your gaze drifted to Angelique, her expression was hardened, she leaned towards you, whispered in French. _I suppose I only had the forethought to teach you how to beg?_ Her voice hard and angry, that possessive edge slicing through the last haziness of your mind.

It occurred to you at that moment that she thought you didn’t understand her, which only made the jealous comments that much more endearing in your mind. While you had been put on the spot days ago, you knew more than…that phrase. After a moment you hummed, smiled, and responded in French. _You don’t have to be jealous._

Her eyes widened barely; jaw clenched instantly. _I’m not._ She gave a short glare in the direction of Joan. _But need I remind you, you’re my wife._

You grinned, _And here I thought you forgot._

She sent you a withering glare, your skin prickled at the almost palpable anger. All the effort that had been put in to have an easy relationship that you could gently tease each other with was gone, you reminded yourself. It occurred to you that while you knew your wife like the back of your hand, it must have put her off for a stranger to see through her with ease.

Regretful you glanced away, murmured, _Goodnight._ Then pulled the cover over you and rolled over. Like most nights after barely a few minutes you were sound asleep.

\----------

The next morning brought even more gossip, this time of a different nature. From what you overheard it seemed that a ship would be arriving soon bringing a prominent wealthy family that were friends with the Collins. Rumor turned to fact when Hugh declared to the servants that evening that no one was allowed to mention the witch hunter or demoness in Collinsport in the presence of guests.

At the threat of being punished the whispers of the witch hunter stopped instantly. Instead everyone began to discuss how thrilling it will be to have guests, because the Collins would have a feast, and hopefully a ball.

Angelique ignored the gossip, and you. It seemed that she hadn’t forgiven you for last night, not that anything had truly transpired beyond simple pleasantries. But still Angelique wouldn’t give you the time of day unless it was to glare at you.

Night came again and you turned in with the other maids, while the rest began to chatter amongst themselves you sat on your bed alone. Angelique in her bed next to you, listening to the discussions, and purposely not catching your gaze.

She would eventually have to give up this silent treatment, you would probably have to apologize for not listening to her requests, and things would return to some semblance of normal. Meaning Angelique would return to her dislike of you, and you would return to your semi-isolation. 

Still you didn’t see why you couldn’t speed things along. Carefully you moved to sit at Angelique’s bed. Asked only low enough for her to hear, “Why is everyone excited for a ball?”

Surprise passed over her expression for a moment before it resumed that neutrality you had started to loathe. Part of you expected her to ignore you, like she had been doing since the night before. Instead she replied, “They’re beautiful, and it’s the closest most of them will get to one.”

“Doesn’t it mean more work?”

Her gaze left you and traveled around the room, finally her mouth curved upwards into a pleased smile. Suddenly her gaze was on you again. “It does.”

You stared at her for a moment, confused, your heart twisting painfully with unfortunate hope.

Gently her fingertips brushed down your forearm, “Have I taken you to a ball?” It was an earnest question, not belied by mockery or flirting.

You answered it before you could decide whether or not it was wise to, “Yes, though you spent most of the night trying to seduce me.”

“Trying to?” Her hand began to brush up your arm, “Are you telling me I don’t succeed?”

There were footsteps near you, and a soft, “Y/N.”

Instantly Angelique’s gaze hardened, her smile dropped. You turned to glance up at Joan’s hesitant smile, you returned it. She spoke first, “I was hoping to braid your hair again, if you’d let me.”

Angelique’s hand paused at the inside of your elbow, she leaned in close to whisper in your ear. _Choose wisely._ Her lips brushed at your ear lobe almost like a kiss, you couldn’t help the shiver down your spine.

A bitter taste formed in your mouth as you realized why Angelique had broken her silent treatment. You swallowed thickly, _Not tonight, but thank you._

Angelique spoke, “She said she would prefer my company.”

Joan’s smile dimmed, she nodded slowly, “Of course.”

When she returned towards her bed, you glared at Angelique, “That’s not what I said.”

She hummed, “It’s basically what you said, chérie.” She pulled you farther onto the bed, you moved, and Angelique adjusted until you laid face to face with her. Her arm thrown across your waist and hand splayed against the small of your back, your eyes fluttering closed not long after.

It occurred to you then, that you hadn’t reassured her last night, too caught up in teasing her that you hadn’t taken the time to ease her mind. And now she was using the same physical affection that had baited you in the first place to keep you near, and to bother Joan.

For a few minutes you allowed yourself to enjoy the affection, Angelique’s constant touch, and the steady breath that fanned across your face. Her hand came to cup your face, gently tracing down your cheek, across your chin, and back again.

It startled you enough into speaking, “I should have reassured you rather than tease you about it.” You murmured, failing to suppress a yawn. “It’s been years since you were truly jealous beyond a few comments.”

Again, she repeated the motion, your eyes fluttered open to stare at her. She was watching you calmly, with a lack of warmth that you weren’t used to. And you supposed that maybe she didn’t hate you necessarily, she simply didn’t care for you as much as she did in your present. 

The silence continued to stretch between you, and you felt compelled to fill it. “You don’t have to do this simply because you’re jealous.” Her brow furrowed and she looked ready to argue that she wasn’t jealous, but you beat her to the punch. “I love you regardless of time and space, I don’t want you to feel like you need to keep me interested in you.”

Her thumb dragged down your cheek, brushed your lips and paused against your bottom lip, her focus remained on your mouth. You thought she might kiss you, instead she murmured. “You should fall asleep in your own bed.”

You moved back to settle on your bed, ignoring any of the hurt or disappointment that rose in your chest, because you were supposed to make sure Angelique fell in love with Barnabas. She needed to if not you wouldn’t exist, nor would your children and you couldn’t afford that.

\-----------------------

Angelique resumed her normalcy, she still rarely looked at you, barely spoke to you unless it was to flirt. But when the maids would turn in, she would pat her mattress expectantly and you would sit down.

She would pull you and adjust as needed until the two of you were cuddling and watching the rest of the maids go about their evening. 

You knew it was her jealousy at Joan, but you wouldn’t object to any physical affection. Not when you felt homesick more often than not and it was the only comfort afforded to you.

On the fourth night of this as you were curled up with Angelique firmly pressed against your back, she spoke, only low enough for you to hear, “We need to practice your English.”

“You do realize that I can speak English?” You replied equally as quiet.

She hummed; her hand moved to rest against your stomach. “With an accent and without all of your odd words.” Her voice dropped a little lower, just enough to know that she was teasing you.

“Odd words?” You repeated, feigning hurt.

“Speak airily, and without your accent.” Her voice had repaired, and you could practically hear the smug smile, which meant she had seen through it almost too easily.

For a moment you paused, focused on your impression of Barnabas and then spoke, “Like this madame?”

There was a quick exhale against the nape of your neck, you bit down a smile because you knew it was Angelique trying not to laugh. “Again, but not as pompous.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressed the laugh that threatened to bubble up, because _if only she knew._ “My apologies-” 

She adjusted her grip on you, “Better.”

“It is with my sincerest regrets to inform you that I only speak pompously.” You said and that earned a quiet chuckle from her, it lit a warm feeling in your chest, your lungs shuddering for a moment with the overwhelming sense of joy.

She made you practice a few more sentences, and when she started to yawn, and the pauses between each reply became longer each time, you slid out of her bed. Moved to your bed and didn’t mind the separation because you still felt that you had at least done something right, progress was being made even if it was day-by-day. 

Most of the candles were already out, but there were a few left, giving off just enough light to make out Angelique’s expression. She was watching you carefully, but not indifferent, it looked almost fond. You offered her a smile, tired yet filled with affection. She returned it, though it fell short by several degrees of affection; it lasted barely a few moments before tapering off to resemble something like regret. Soon after she rolled over, and the last candles were extinguished. 

You laid there for a few minutes wondering what had happened, but it wasn’t long before sleep took hold.

\--------------------

One more day passed with Angelique forcing you to practice your English, other than that there were no other interactions. She didn’t invite you to her bed, and every time you considered asking her about it your mind would flash back to that regret, and you would hold your tongue.

Then Sunday came again, while the rest went to church or slept in. The two of you disappeared to the attic, she resumed the search through the book again, while you paced.

After the thirtieth pace you remembered the chapstick. You went to the cot and lifted the mattress, found the chapstick still nestled safely and you grabbed it. 

You held it tightly and felt relieved, you sat at the edge of the cot and glanced down and the object. It brought you some comfort, all of your belongings save for the ring had been discarded the first day, and now almost two weeks into this you needed proof that this wasn’t some dream.

That your future existed, and your children existed. You gripped the chapstick tightly until there were red indents in your palm. “Any luck?” You asked, your voice coming out a little too raw for your liking.

Angelique paused from her search, sensing the emotion in your voice. She didn’t glance at you, and for once you were thankful that she wasn’t so interested in you.

She grabbed a piece of parchment, “Here.” Then wrote something down, you crossed the room. The word looked like unintelligible scribbles, you assumed it was archaic Latin. “Look for these words in this book,” she passed you a large book.

“What do the words mean?”

She underlined the first one, “That translates to time,” then gestured to the second, “and this one roughly translates to transport.” She gestured to the stack of fourteen other books that all looked at least four hundred pages worth. “Once you’re finished with that one there’s still the rest.”

Her gaze landed on your palm and the chapstick in it, you tightened your hand around it and focused on the book. After a wordless moment she returned to her book. 

\-----------------

It felt like hours since you had begun searching through the book, the unintelligible words swam across the page after so much concentration. Frustration rose when you realized it had only been thirty minutes and you had gotten two pages into the book. You rubbed at your eyes and wished whoever had written this at least had better handwriting and tried to decipher the next page.

After another two pages, Angelique stood and reminded you that the church service would be over soon. You sighed, shutting the book with a soft thud. You set the chapstick on the table, and stood, “I assume that means we should return downstairs?”  
  


She stared at the chapstick, and you supposed you really were going to have to at least explain what it was. You picked it up, “It’s chapstick, for your lips so they don’t get…” you thought for a better word, “...well, chapped I guess.”

“Why do you still have it?” She reached out hesitantly, waiting for you to pull back or tell her no, but you simply dropped it into her palm. 

“It’s one of the last connections I have to our future.” You watched as Angelique looked over it, seemingly trying to memorize it, and you smiled to yourself because she was such a nerd sometimes.

“You have the ring.” She answered, not breaking her focus whatsoever. 

“For now, I do.” You stretched, “But I was given this not too long ago and the ring was given several years ago. It’s more of a testament to the specific future I hope to return to.”

She hummed out an acknowledgement, finally setting the chapstick back on the table. “We should go downstairs before the church service ends.” Which was a safer subject than your still endangered future, and the ever-present reminder that your existence could simply cease to exist.

\----------------

Halfway to the first floor you could already sense something was off, there was an excited buzz through the halls that wasn’t distinguishable by any one thing. You blamed the fact that this was your home, and you simply weren’t used to having this many people live here at once.

But as you entered the kitchen there were a group of servants bustling in there, 

“They arrived this morning-” “They’ll expect a feast, for fuck’s sake-” 

A man brushed passed you with a pot of something steaming. Angelique pulled you closer to her, all in the name of keeping you out of the way of course. You didn’t dwell on the fact that her hand remained on your shoulder. She spoke, “Who?”

Phillipa turned to answer, “The DuPres family.” She passed a woman a wooden spoon, “Apparently they arrived this morning and the Collins want a feast prepared to celebrate.”

One of the cooks turned to weigh in, “And of all days to expect a feast it’s when a few of the staff have fallen under the weather. Typical.”

“I blame the demoness.” One of the men piped up, shaking his head, but not taking his focus off cutting vegetables.

Another man shot him a stern glare, “Remember not to mention that to them, John.”

John smiled, “Oh, perish the thought. Why would they spare me the time of day?”

“Hugh would have your head,” Phillipa teased. 

“Let him.” John murmured and went back to cutting his vegetables. 

\-------------

While in the kitchen you and Angelique inadvertently got roped in to help prepare the feast that night. Since they were apparently short-staffed. There was a nagging familiar feeling in the back of your mind that remained while you cooked. 

As promised the Collins’ returned from the church service with the DuPres family in tow. While you didn’t see them, you heard voices that echoed off the halls, and you noticed how only the wealthy felt comfortable and entitled enough to do that. Something you supposed you hadn’t appreciated in the future till you no longer had the privilege now.

Eventually mid-morning shifted to afternoon and finally to evening, plates and platters were laid out and you placed out silverware that you knew was made out of _actual_ silver. The same silverware that your sister sold years ago to keep you all afloat, but you mused on how needlessly expensive it was. 

You returned to the kitchen and could hear your ancestors and their guests as they seated for dinner. You pushed through the double doors, held a platter and followed the girl in front of you. The men were all seated on one end of the table and the women on the other, you placed a platter down carefully in front of one woman and glanced up only long enough to catch sight of someone who made you freeze momentarily.

Time seemed to stop for a second as you stared at Victoria, Josette? She was blonde and looked every ounce like someone pretentious and not the woman you knew. But still your stomach dropped to your toes and you felt like hugging her and running from her. Time resumed its normal pace and you returned to the kitchen.

You moved to the far end of the kitchen; Angelique grabbed your arm. “What was that about?” You turned to look at her, her eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched.

“What was what?”

She rolled her eyes, pulled you to stand farther from the bustle of other servants, “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Technically Josette would be dead in less than a year if everything went to plan. “I saw someone who looked familiar is all,” despair started to take hold and you pulled away from her grip, “which for me is like seeing a ghost I suppose.”

Her expression shifted when you pulled away, something like hurt crossed her expression before it returned to her jealousy.

_Reassurance,_ you reminded yourself. But the next course was already preparing to be sent out and you both needed to go. You focused on Angelique, “I-“

“Angelique, Y/N, come along.” One of the cooks called, you sighed, moved to complete the task. 

The dining room was already enjoying pleasant conversation, boring conversation from what you heard, but pleasant enough. You set a plate down near Josette, a pinprick feeling followed you and you glanced up to see one of the women watching you. 

She offered a small smirk when your eyes met, and you glanced away instantly. Angelique would probably kill someone by the end of the night and the way things were going you were probably going to be the reason for it. If she didn’t kill you first. 

You returned to the kitchen. One last course would be served, and you would be finished and free for the night. Angelique said nothing of the other woman, and you prayed that she hadn’t caught that interaction. While the rest were distracted you pulled Angelique farther from the group of servants, “Darling, I didn’t mean to make you jealous.”

She spared a glance at you, eyebrows quirking up. “Who said I was jealous?”

You shrugged, mouth dry suddenly, “I just didn’t want to repeat what happened with Joan.”

She smiled and it was tinged with derision, “I never said I was jealous, not when it came to Joan, or even now.” She moved closer, gaze drifting down, “You seem to be under the assumption that my most pressing concerns are what you do.” Her gaze finally met yours, voice turning cold, “An incorrect assumption.”

Something told you that she wasn’t truly angry _at_ you, but it was a small comfort when she was being needlessly cruel. You swallowed, clenched your jaw and nodded, “Glad we’re on the same page.” Hurt rose and you pushed it down, because the timeline was at least safe. You turned on your heel and returned to the group of servants.

Angelique wasn’t jealous, she only cared that you gave her a ticket out of this hellhole. Still you could see Angelique glancing between you and the women who you had inadvertently caught her attention. “I seem to need more wine.” She said and smiled.

“Of course, madam.” And you leaned next to her to fill her cup, she looked up at you smiling. Not that you would look. It’d be too personal and the last thing you needed was Angelique being any more passive aggressive than she already was tonight.

“Thank you.”

You gave a curt nod and returned the pitcher to its place, returning to the kitchen and beginning to put things away.

The men eventually retired to the study and the women to the parlor, the rest of you cleared dishes and cleaned the dining room. You purposefully never stayed near Angelique, nor looked at her. It was worse or perhaps better that you had never dealt with your wife’s anger till now, there had been arguments of course, but she was careful to never let rage cloud her actions. 

But if there had been any trouble before about keeping your distance from your wife, there was none now.

The kitchen was still being cleaned and dishes were still being washed when Hugh walked in and asked for tea to be brought to the parlor. You didn’t hesitate to offer help, ignored the fact that Angelique offered to help the second after you did. Ignored the questioning glare she sent you. 

The trays were loaded with tea and teacups, Angelique took the lead towards the parlor. “Ignoring me and putting yourself under more scrutiny isn’t going to help, chérie.”

“Fuck off, darling.”

She turned on a dime, your tray wobbled, but your glare stayed intact. Her eyes narrowed and she searched your expression for something, you never softened and simply glared at her. Finally, her mouth quirked upwards and she looked pleased. 

She turned and resumed her pace, the two of you entered the parlor, and you realized it was the room below the attic. The room your ancestors had inhabited throughout your nightmares, but you could dwell on that fact later.

You set the tray on the coffee table, and barely tuned in to whatever discussion was being had. It wasn’t until someone grabbed your wrist that you truly focused on the events unfolding. The same woman you had been politely ignoring was now smoothing her fingers over your palm. 

The gesture seemed intimate to you, but barely anyone save for Angelique spared the two of you a glance, you guessed this was average behavior then. “How is it that your hands are so soft?” She asked, holding your palms. “I’ve certainly never met a maid that didn’t have calloused hands.”

Angelique glared in what was definitely a _we’re going to talk later_ look and set her tray down. “I haven’t the faintest clue, madam.” You offered, politely, but monotone. 

She smiled, and you spared a last glance at the tray of teacups and other silverware on the table to ensure everything was alright before leaving the room with Angelique and starting down the hall towards the kitchen. Angelique’s pace slowed in front of you until it stopped abruptly, she grabbed your arm then pulled you into a closet. Inside was small, dark, and full of coats; you could barely make out the outline of her face.

“....Is there something you want Angelique?”

“She’s insufferable.” She whispered, reaching out, brushing down your arms until she found your hands. “ _I’ve certainly never met a maid that didn’t have calloused hands.”_ Angelique repeated mockingly, dragging her fingers across your palms. “She doesn’t get to touch you.”

“And you do?”

There was a pause, she stepped closer, your back pressed against a coat and her breath fanned across your face. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you wanted to laugh. So incredibly touch starved to the point that holding her hands and her being a few inches away from you was enough for you to be desperate. “You’re angry at me.”

“What gave you that idea?” You breathed. “You seem to be under the impression that if I’m not following behind you like a lost puppy, I must be pissed at you, right?” You pressed forward, she moved back a step to keep upright. “I have more pressing concerns than your jealousy, and whatever game you’re playing.”

“I’m not jealous.” She replied.

You scoffed, pressed forward again, “Of course, you’re not. You simply pulled me into the nearest space to talk about what exactly?” Pressed forward again until she was the one pressed against the wall and you could feel her inhale and exhale. “Make me say that I’m yours?” You mocked, “Make me promise that _Angelique my heart only belongs to you,_ only for you to ask why you should care for me?” The anger burned brighter, and you wanted to make her understand the hurt you felt. 

She cupped your face, and you could tell she was breathing unsteady breaths, she smirked. “And why should I care for you?” Her voice equal parts bait and lust.

You knew your wife, knew her well enough to know that when it came down to it, she preferred any emotion over indifference. She liked your reactions over anything, it was why you knew being passive kept her attention away from you. But you hadn’t been paying attention enough, because this had all been a test. 

A test of how much would push you over the edge until you pushed just a few inches closer and she could pull you the rest of the way to her mouth. Even if she didn’t care for you, she did appreciate any show of love and any reminder that you belonged to her. 

Her breathing was still uneven, and her hands shifted against your jaw expectantly. Slowly you pulled away from her, your mouth suddenly dry. “It-it doesn’t matter.”

Even in the darkness you could see her expression shift, surprise and confusion, gone in a second. Her hands slid from your jaw to your shoulders, to keep you from putting any more distance between the two of you. 

You stood unmoving, refused to move farther from her or give into moving closer. “Why am I here Angelique?”

“Do you not want to be here?” She moved closer, and you could feel the heat of her breath against you, “I thought you would enjoy this.” Her voice took on an overly sweet tone, that you knew was meant to mock as much as it was meant to hurt. 

It worked almost depressingly well.

You shut your eyes, wished for all your luck that you could just be _home._ “Angelique.” You warned, finally looking back at her. “Why am I here?”

You caught the flash of her teeth as she offered a predatory smile. “I’m sure you can figure it out.” One hand left your shoulder to run teasingly down your arm, a shiver ran through you, “Are you still angry at me?”

The anger had burned out, and all that was left was hurt, not that you would give her the satisfaction of knowing she was under your skin. Or maybe she would soften if you admitted that there was hurt, you weren’t quite sure of how she would act. “No.” You finally uttered.

She hummed, “A shame. You look ethereal when furious.”

You scoffed, replied knowing it was equal parts compliment and bait, “Not half as beautiful as you even when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” She said. An obvious lie.

“Possessive then.” You amended.

She stepped forward, body pressed against you, your breath hitched. Angelique noticed of course, because her hands tightened their grip on you. “She’s wealthy.” Her tone was scathing, and you at least appreciate that it was equally as easy to get under her skin. 

It also wasn’t lost on you that Angelique had skipped the admittance and dived right into acceptance that she was jealous.

Still you answered, “I couldn’t care less-”

She yanked you forward with a grip hard enough to bruise, kissed you quick and demanding. Your mind barely had time to process her mouth on yours before she had already pulled away. “We’ll have to clear the tea,” she said flatly, and opened the closet. Leaving you to stand there slack jawed, equally fearful and desperate.

———

By the time you returned to the tearoom, Angelique was already clearing the used teacups. She didn’t seem even slightly bothered, didn’t seem any different despite what had happened in the closet. Did she actually care for you romantically? Or was what had transpired just some power play over that woman? 

Speaking of that woman, she hadn’t left the tearoom, none of the women had. All completely ignorant of what had just happened down the hall and out of sight.

“You’re back,” she beamed, “I was just talking with Naomi, about how I needed a servant to help turn down my bed tonight.”

“That would be Joan’s duty,” Angelique offered flatly, you risked a glance at Angelique who was determinedly focused on the tray in front of her. You decided that she wasn’t as unaffected as she was pretending to be.

The woman’s face fell, but then the group began talking about some hat another woman had and her attention was directed elsewhere. You cleared the tea; Angelique didn’t bother to glance at you as you left for the kitchen. For once in your life, you weren’t sure where you stood with her.

You knew that despite all of her showiness, she wasn’t angry at you. Yet she chose to take her anger out on you, if that’s what this odd line between lust and arguing could be called. 

\--------------------

After setting the tea back in the kitchen you left for the attic, taking care to make sure you weren’t being followed. Once in the attic you took a seat and opened the book again, even if Angelique had meant nothing with the kiss, you still needed to return soon.

It probably meant nothing if you were completely honest, she ignored you at every chance unless she was jealous. And tonight, she had been jealous and knew that nothing kept your attention like affection, kissing you had been nothing but a power play over that woman. Nothing more than jealousy and a bit of lust. 

All the reassurances eased your mind and you attempted to decipher a page, knowing that Angelique had already returned to loathing barely hidden by indifference. There was some comfort at least knowing that the timeline was safe even if it was at the cost of being loathed and isolated. 

Halfway through the second page Angelique walked into the room, looking no more at ease than she had the entire night. “That woman had the audacity to request you turn down her bed,” She huffed, “as if you would even want to be in the same room as that-”

“Keep your voice down.”

She glared at you, anger mounting at the thought you were defending that woman. In a wordless explanation you jerked a thumb towards the disguised door. The anger decreased only slightly, “There’s a barrier that keeps sound from escaping.” With that she sat in the chair near the table and opened a book harshly.

She definitely wasn’t as indifferent as she had been pretending to be.

Her gaze turned to the book, though her focus was still on everything that had transpired tonight. “You belong to me and no one, no matter how wealthy or influential, may have you.” 

You were well versed in your wife’s moods, knew when to reassure her, knew when to tease her, but she was reasonable. Reasonable enough to know that you weren’t going to throw yourself at every person who showed even a smidgen of interest in you. You crossed your arms, trying not to think too hard about what she was implying. “You don't have to explain it to me." Then muttered under your breath, to yourself, "But why should you care."

She turned to glare at you, you froze like a deer in headlights. _Fuck._ “Did you like the attention?” She mocked. “Have I been neglecting you so you find someone else who’s richer and who could keep you well off instead?”

The anger that had been shelved returned with a vengeance, while you could tolerate most things. You drew the line at Angelique reducing your love to greed. "No. I was simply doing my damn job, like you told me to. I've kept up my end of the bargain..." You knew you needed to stop, but the floodgates had opened, and the hurt only fed the anger. "And god why would I even want to stay here? These people are racist, homophobic, assholes who can't use what little brain cells they have to consider that not everything is solved by killing someone."

"And you." The hurt in your voice swallowed any accusation that might've been there. "You hate me, and I thought I could be okay with that." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "But it fucking hurts."

The conversation splintered into silence, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting your head rest against the stone wall. There was something to be said for the buzzing calmness of a potentially fatal mistake.

"I don't hate you." She replied finally, voice gentle for once. 

It surprised you enough that you looked at her, she stared back appraisingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Again, you realized a moment too late that it was the wrong thing to say, her eyes narrowed and her posture straightened. “Do you truly believe I would help someone I hate, return to a future where I have to spend time with them?”

It was a rhetorical question, but your emotional capacity had been filled, you didn’t seem to care if you dug yourself further down. “When I hold the only ticket out of this place, yes.”

She finally gave up on the book, closing it harshly, “The ring isn’t my only way out.” She lifted her chin and her eyes didn’t hold the same amount of wrath they had earlier, despite the venom in her voice. “You’re my wife.”

You wanted to make a comment about how you knew, since you were _actually_ at the ceremony, but thought it poor taste and settled on the truth. “You couldn’t care less about me.” Your voice was even, there was no accusation anymore simply a statement of fact. “You hate me so much; you can barely stand to talk with me. Unless it’s to remind me that you loathe me.”

“My silence isn’t because of hatred.” She finally breathed, like she hated admitting that. “I thought you would’ve figured that out by now.”

Something in your mind clicked.

“I hate that I can’t hate you,” she moved closer, with simmering anger. 

You started to realize that maybe Angelique didn’t hate you, though you doubted she even knew what she felt.

“I hate that I want to call you mine, but I have no more of a right than that woman downstairs.”

You looked at her, your expression softened, because you were starting to suspect that she cared for you. Maybe not as much as she did in your time, but anything was better than nothing.

“And I hate how you look at me.” She breathed, anger subsiding for a moment, though she was still glaring at you.

“How do I look at you?” You asked, softly. Aware that it would be best to deescalate. Angelique could easily use her anger and turn it into lust, and you weren’t sure how to navigate that just yet.

She stepped closer; anger still visible but her voice trembled barely around the words. “Like I have the right to your love despite only offering cruelties.”

You needed to keep this platonic, so you smiled, hoped to lighten the mood. “Would you prefer I scowl at you from now on?” The tension eased from her, her glare softened, but she didn’t look away from you. You offered, “I could stop looking at you entirely if that would work.”

The anger eased until it was barely a frown, “Don’t.” 

You met her gaze, “I should get to bed.”

She looked away first, not lingering anywhere specific as she glanced down at you, before turning away. “I’ll turn in soon.” You nodded, turned to leave. “And Y/N.” You paused, turned just enough to look at Angelique, though her focus remained on the book. “I apologize for hurting you. But I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“You will stay away from that woman.”

Your expression eased into reassurance, “The only woman I have eyes for is you darling.”

Her eyes still narrowed, “Swear it.”

“I swear, that I only care for you.”

She gave a curt nod, turned back to the table and focused on the book. You took that as your dismissal and left.

\----------------

You turned in, the covers weren’t necessarily warm, but you were exhausted. Still it nagged in the back of your mind that she didn’t hate you. Angelique didn’t hate you. Anxiety pooled in your stomach. While it was some comfort to you that she didn’t hate you, you also didn’t want her feelings to tip anywhere near love.

Footsteps quietly echoed in the room; the air felt charged with the presence of another person. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it was Angelique, so you didn’t bother to.

She pulled the covers from your bed, you startled for a moment before she slid into the bed and pressed against you, hard and demanding. She kissed you, for a moment you froze, before cupping her face. You were gentle and pliant under her, knowing that any lingering anger would burn out soon. Trying to memorize it, because it was probably your last chance for a few centuries.

Angelique pulled away barely, just enough to breathe, you didn’t pull or push her away. You noticed then the slight tremble when you brushed your thumb along her jaw. Your voice barely carried only loud enough for Angelique to hear, “You’re trembling.”

She didn’t reply for a long while and you thought she hadn’t heard you, until finally she sighed. “Goodnight, chérie.” Then went to lay in her bed as if nothing happened.

—————

You returned to your regular chores the next morning, you thankfully never saw any of your ancestors or Josette’s family. Angelique talked with you more, and the two of you were careful to keep the conversation to simple things. 

Night came and most of the maids began to turn in, you laid in your bed and listened to the conversations half-asleep, Angelique moved to sit at the edge of your bed, and you wordlessly let her in. She slid in and you curled your arm around her waist, her hand traced lightly along your shoulder blades.

It felt like something had shifted, but you were already too far gone to consider what it was. You fell asleep soundly, though woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Despite the disappointment, after that night everything fell into place rather well, or at least it felt like it did.

\----------------

At the mark of your third week since arriving Angelique insisted the two of you leave Collinswood in the evening. 

Already the light was beginning to fade, as the two of you left the mansion and its foreboding aesthetic. The surrounding woods offered only a slight reprieve, until the looming shadow of the mansion vanished from sight. 

You pulled the borrowed cloak around you tighter, “Where are we going?”

“To the town.” She answered but gave you no more of an explanation.

You pouted, but she simply smirked and took your hand, “Trust me, chérie.” She said gently teasing with that damn smirk that made your heart feel funny even after all these years. Though you knew you couldn’t do anything about it. 

Instead you focused ahead, squeezing her hand gently. You pretended that this was something normal, maybe a walk or hike, with orange leaves crunching underfoot and nothing except trees surrounding the two of you. It was too easy to pretend you were back in the present with your wife, that when you finally caught sight of the town of Collinsport you were ripped right back to this time.

Town was a gracious word for the few buildings that lined the muddy streets. There was a church, a bar, and a line of shops. The rest were log cabins that you guessed were homes. It looked completely different to what you knew of Collinsport, and you hadn’t truly considered the scope of how screwed you were until now.

Collinswood frankly looked the same against its aged counterpart, and you had looked past it for the most part. Angelique looked slightly different, but at the heart of it was still undoubtedly your wife. 

But now you walked by and felt nauseous at the realization that this would be your reality until you found a way home. And it had already been three weeks, how much longer would you be stuck here? Months? Years? A century?

In the wake of your dread you moved closer to Angelique in search of something familiar in all of this. Angelique seemed tuned to it, barely hesitating as you looped your arm through hers, “If we need to leave at any time, simply tell me.” She said gently, directing you around a family as they passed.

It caught you off guard for a moment before you relaxed letting some of the tension ease, “Thank you.”

She took the detour to the church, the two of you quietly entered and took a seat on the back pews. The inside of the church looked equally as ominous as the outside, it didn’t help to ease the feeling that the universe might smite you where you stood…or more accurately sat. “I thought-” And you couldn’t get the words out how you wanted them, “I thought I’d be okay, but everything’s different and yet familiar enough that it hurts.”

Angelique stiffened barely at the words and you realized how she knew it applied to her too, but she let it go. Her voice quiet and careful to not let it echo in the church, “I am here for you, I realize I might not be the version you want but-“

She shouldn’t have felt guilty for something neither of you could change, she shouldn’t tell you something so caring. Instead you rested your head on her shoulder, took her hand and idly traced along her palm. “What did you plan on showing me?”

She stopped, then took the easier route you had given. “I thought it might be a good idea to show up for the Wednesday service so suspicion wouldn’t be on us.” She murmured, skimmed the top of your head with her lips in what was far too affectionate. “Other than that, I planned on taking you wherever you wanted.”

You smiled sadly against her, “It doesn’t matter to me so long as you’re there.” Angelique felt like home in all of this, even at Collinswood it didn’t truly feel like home so much as someone else’s. But you had to be careful to not let this friendliness become anything more.

People started to file in, and you zoned out for most of the service, eventually your mood repaired and by the end of the service as most people filed out. You and Angelique along with them. 

The sky was dark as you left the church and the two of you strolled together, making a quick stop near the docks to see the ocean. Not too long after the wind started to pick up and you pulled the cloak around you tighter, Angelique kept her hand in yours as you began the journey back to Collinswood.

By the outskirts of town, you couldn’t make out a single thing in the darkness, Angelique waved her hand and suddenly held a torch, you followed closely next to her. The two of you walked in relative silence save for the wind, trees, and occasional crunch of leaves. There was a distant howl carried by the wind and you moved closer to Angelique. She chuckled, “I didn’t expect you to be afraid of the dark.”

You swallowed, tried to act unbothered, but the waver in your voice betrayed you. “I’m not, I’m afraid of what lurks in it.”

Angelique didn’t complain when you kept closer to you, she rested her hand on the small of your back and said. “And yet you’re not afraid of me.” She kept her face purposely indifferent as she asked, “Are you?”

“No,” you answered easily, “but to be fair, you haven’t tried to kill me.” She glanced at you, questions evident, and you explained before she could ask. “We’ve had a few encounters with those types of things.” You went to twist the ring on your finger only to realize it was still in the attic, Angelique saw the movement, seeming to realize why there was so much magic concentrated on a wedding ring.

A look of dawning horror and concern etched across her face, but she focused back on the path, you didn’t comment on how her hand curled around you, her grip a little tighter. Nor did you comment on how her eyes tracked the shadows around you carefully now. As if at any point those horrors would come to life again and take you.

Silence swallowed the conversation as the two of you continued the path back to Collinswood. Angelique for all her hatred and anger, was also surprisingly gentle when she wanted to be. It had been easier to write her off when she was ignoring you than now, because now you had to admit that she had been considerate for the most part. Not necessarily nice, but never outright hostile. She never had to agree to the deal, she could have just left you locked in the attic to rot. But she had agreed at the price of a ring.

“I haven’t thanked you for this.” You said abruptly, forgetting to segue into the gratefulness.

Angelique quirked her eyebrows, “For taking you to church? Chérie, they nearly bored me to death.”

You smiled, shook your head, “For this—for everything. You didn’t have to agree to help me back to my time.”

“I made a deal.”

“That you never had to agree to.”

She stopped and turned to you, she searched your expression. Finding whatever she had been searching for her lips pulled into a gentle smile. “Perhaps there is a bit of witch in you, chérie.”

_Was that a compliment?_ You swallowed, “Why do you say that?”

Her hand left the small of your back to tilt your chin upwards ever so slightly, “Because you have bewitched me.” Her voice breathless as a confession, the light from the torch illuminating the two of you softly and you caught something in her eyes that made your breath catch.

You didn’t want to put a name to it, because as soon as you did you feared you’d be erased from the timeline.

_Three weeks,_ you had only been here three weeks, it was too soon for any type of feelings to arise. When she had fallen last time, it had been faster than you admittedly, but you had only been here three weeks. She couldn’t care for you like that.

You closed your eyes and sighed shakily, trying to find the words to smooth everything over, but Angelique must have taken it as an invitation. Her hand brushed from your chin to smooth her fingers over your lips, you startled back into focus. You could see the want reflected so easily in her eyes. In the way that her fingers trembled against your lips as if the desperation to be loved terrified her as much as she craved it. “No witty response?” She finally hummed, trying to sound prideful and confident, but of course you caught the nervousness. 

“I haven’t decided if it was a compliment or an insult.” You murmured, she laughed and leaned closer. 

“You took it as a complement, otherwise you wouldn’t allow me this…” Her focus landed on your lips for a moment, “...proximity.” She finished, her gaze languidly returning to meet yours again with that flickering emotion that you couldn’t allow. 

Her hand moved from your mouth to cradle your jaw, and she leaned a touch closer, but you panicked and stepped back before things could get out of hand, though you knew it was already too late. Angelique looked like she had been splashed with cold water, seemed to realize that you had rejected her, hurt flashed across her expression soon replaced with anger. “You claim to love me, but can’t stand when I care for you?” Her voice wasn’t nearly angry enough, but there was a gentle accusation to it. 

The torch flickered in the breeze, and you stood there, feeling like a strong gust of wind might blow you away. “I do love you, but I can’t act on those feelings right now.” Your voice came out gentle, which must have sounded condescending to her. 

Her hand pulled away from you, leaving you swaying, “You kissed me, is that not acting on those feelings?”

There was no way to keep Angelique friendly while also explaining that you loved her, but she couldn’t love you. “You were angry at me, and I knew you didn’t feel the way I felt it was simply something you did to try to hurt my feelings or flaunt your power over me and-”

“I kissed you because I wanted to.” She answered flatly, but there was genuine hurt in her eyes. “Do you think so little of me?” Her voice was smooth, but you still couldn’t pull your eyes away from her expression.

Of all the possible mistakes and missteps of this time, Angelique was the most dangerous one. She simply had to show any discomfort, soften barely and you would rush to help at the risk of your own oblivion. Now was no different, you could stay quiet or start walking again towards Collinswood to leave her. But there was that twinge of hurt in her expression and your body thrummed with the need to comfort. “I think the world of you.” You said, voice sounding like it was strangled out by your own hands. 

Her gaze flicked to yours and you stood there, helpless and waiting for death. She moved to close the distance between you, her hand left the torch to float in midair and she hugged you. Hugged might not have been the right word for it, not strong enough for the feeling of it. She wrapped her arms around you, and you held tightly as if it’d keep you from disappearing. If she knew she had hurt you, she’d soften and try to comfort, you realized distractedly.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” You said quietly. “When I kissed you, I thought it was the last chance I would get.”

She pulled away to look at you, you stared back, and she sighed. “It won’t be.”

And the certainty in her voice made your stomach twist pleasantly, while your heart ached. “It has to be.” You said hoping to match her certainty. 

Her mouth curved into a knowing smirk, undercut by the gentleness in her voice. “I suppose we’ll let fate decide.”

\----------------

You returned to Collinswood, Angelique’s mood remained the same, friendly, but now she was careful to watch you for any sign of discomfort. Her hand stayed on the small of your back, but she never let it wander nor did she flirt with you. Conversation flowed, but both of you kept to the safer topics. 

Collinswood towered as you neared it, the foreboding feeling creeping up the back of your neck. A few windows were lit with candles, but it only served the purpose to appear monstrous in the night. 

As you both rounded the house to enter through the servant’s entrance, you passed the stables and noticed a new horse being led in by one of the stable boys. With a small nudge at Angelique she took notice too, while odd you hoped that it was perhaps because the Du Pres family would leave soon. 

Inside the mansion it lacked the usual buzz you felt, almost as if it was subdued. Though you knew it was simply from having an emotionally taxing conversation with Angelique. The maid’s chambers were even quieter than usual, while the usual talk still persisted it wasn’t nearly as loud and happy. 

Angelique pulled off her cloak and set it at the end of her bed, “Who arrived?” 

Lydia was stretched across Joan’s bed, “The witch hunter, the Collins have invited him to stay here for the duration of his trip.” 

Trip sounded like a vacation, not like he was actively finding an easy and vulnerable woman to kill in the name of purifying the town or some shit. Angelique barely looked bothered, simply turned to you and pulled at the tie securing your cloak. 

Lydia spoke up, “Where did you go?”

“To church, we were praying for safety and the evil to be cleansed from the town. He arrived not a moment too late in my opinion.” Angelique answered easily, and you had to admire how easily she kept up this ruse. “Have the Du Pres heard the witch hunter has arrived?”

A few of the maids started to gossip about the Collins and Du Pres families, speculating on just how they were handling it. You didn’t hide the fond look at Angelique, because she managed to not only keep the suspicion off the two of you but diverted the attention right back to something easily discussed. 

Anxiety settled in your bones as you prepared to turn in, but at least you had Angelique to help you. Though your mind returned to the woods, and the way she had looked at you so _...lovingly._ Your anxiety redoubled its efforts, but before you could ever fall prey to an anxiety attack you fell asleep.


End file.
